Goin' Out To Cally – Part 43, Between The Hard Rock And A Hard Place

We had decided when we started our journey to California to make the Hard Rock Café a mini-home away from home. We knew that there would be Hard Rocks in Dallas, Los Angeles and San Francisco, so we made a point to use the visit to the Los Angeles version for Tim’s twenty-sixth birthday.

We arrived at the Los Angeles Hard Rock and were disappointed to see that this location resembled more of a loud singles bar than it did a musical museum that served above average fare.

There weren’t a lot of seating options available so we decided to sit around a small, high table with bar chairs. The music was loud and conversation was difficult. At one point Sunday went over to the bar to get a drink and was immediately hit on by a tan, blonde hunk of a man about 100 times more handsome than I could ever imagine myself to be.

As she smiled, flipped her hair and flirted with the hunk I found myself experiencing an emotion I was ill prepared to face… jealousy. I remember vividly being stunned that I was growing upset that Sunday was flirting with someone else. Funny that I could immediately spot her flirting with someone across a crowded bar, but was unable to comprehend when she was flirting with me.

I turned away and thought to myself… why am I jealous? I was growing to despise this person just hours earlier, yet here I was fighting the green monster because Golden Boy was making moves.

For some reason, over the past week or so I had grown to possess a latent fondness or attraction for Sunday. I had battled my insecurities for the entire trip, but was also flattered by her attention.

As Tim and Beth held hands and leaned close to each other in order to talk, I found myself realizing the definition of being a third wheel. Tim and Beth were having fun, Sunday was having fun and I was sadly jealous over someone with which I had no right to feel jealous.

That feeling of jealously quickly turned to shame. How pathetic was I… not only to feel this way, but to be so insecure as to allow myself to feel this way.

Eventually Sunday rejoined our table as the food arrived. Embarrassed, I hid my feelings and, instead, complained about how much better the Dallas Hard Rock was than its Los Angeles cousin. Unable to compete with the loud conversations in the bar trying to yell over the louder music, we ended up just sitting quietly and eating. Sunday downed a few more drinks and, together, we all toasted Tim on his numerically unique birthday.

On the way out to the car it was to nobody’s surprise that Sunday was lagging behind. Tim and Beth continued ahead of us while Sunday, feeling more open and aggressive with a few drinks in her, starting yelling at me.

I asked, “What are you mad at me for?”

She grabbed my arm and turned me toward her. “You haven’t made one single move on me this whole trip!”

“What?” I asked with utter confusion.

“I’ve been flirting with you and hitting on you and you haven’t tried to kiss me or anything!” she exclaimed.

My mind was suddenly inundated with conflicting thoughts. Should I remind her that she’s dating David, our mutual friend?

No. Why? Because I’m actually flattered she was hitting on me all this time and, for how little this moment of clarity would actually last and I wanted it to exist as long as possible.

Should I tell her that I’m a relationship moron?

No, she’s apparently figured that out already.

What should I do? Comfort her? She’d have to stop yelling at me first.

Try and kiss her? No, that’d be wrong. Not only would it be betraying my friendship with David, it would also be taking advantage of Sunday while slightly inebriated.

By the time we caught up to Tim and Beth at the car, Sunday had confessed her attraction to me and explained, in detail, how offended she was that I had not attempted to make a single pass at her or tried any inappropriate touching on her person what-so-ever.

As her emotional venting came to climax, I realized that, not only had any opportunity of intimacy with Sunday evaporated this evening, but I could sense that it had ended for the trip as a whole.

For better or worse or somewhere in the massive gray area in between, we would remain only friends. As the smoke cleared I knew it was for the better.

The ride back to Paul and Anne’s house was uncomfortably quiet. I spent the time silently trying to understand this unexpectedly odd and emotionally tumultuous night.

As so ended the twelfth day on our trip to Cally.

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Part 43, (Text, Audio)
Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)